Relatives
by SonOfCoul27
Summary: We all know the famous Avengers, X-Men, and other vigilantes and heroes. But what about their behind-the-scenes relatives? No one's ever heard of Hawkeye's sister, Ant-Man's nephew, or - well, you'll just have to wait and see! (Rated T for violence, just in case)


A/N: So this is a series of one-shots on some quick OCs related to important characters. Mostly it's just me wondering what it would be like for a superhero to swing by for a visit :)

* * *

Sarah Barton rubbed her bleary eyes and looked at the clock. She groaned. It was two in the morning! Who the heck was knocking on her door?

Throwing on a robe, she stumbled down the stairs and leaned against the door. She squinted through the peephole. The porch was empty. "Darn kids," she muttered, extremely irritated that someone had woken her up to ding-dong-ditch.

But as she turned to go back upstairs, the knock sounded again, much quieter this time. Back to the door. Again, no one there. Yet the door kept knocking. Stepping back, wide awake now, she opened the door and covered her gasping mouth with her hand.

There, laying on the porch, a bloody and bruised man, barely conscious, squinted up at her and cracked a smiled.

"Damn you, Clint Barton!" He grinned.

Rushing back into the house for some first aid and a flashlight, she grabbed whatever she could find. Back to the porch, she hung the flashlight on the door and bent down to examine the man.

He was curled in an almost fetal position, blood pooling beneath him, currently dripping out of a deep gash on his side. She thought she saw a bullet wound, but it was in his side and was hopefully just grazed. Dabbing up some blood, she gently wiggled off the strap around his chest and peeled away the soaked clothing. Underneath was another cut and night-sky dark bruises.

Grabbing him under his arm, she pulled him up off the ground and practically carried him to the nearest couch. He lay down with a grunt and she started taking off the rest of his shirts. She counted four wounds, not including small cuts or a split lip. She gently started dabbing them with hydrogen peroxide and wiping away the blood. There was a lot of it.

After most of the blood was gone she turned to the bullet wound. She had been right, luckily the bullet wasn't in him. She touched the area and he winced, but she cleaned it anyways despite his mild protests.

Finally the major gashes had been bandaged and Clint had relaxed a bit. She got some ice for a bump on his head and finally say down in the chair opposite the couch. She glared at him. He smiled.

"What the hell happened?"

He covered his eyes with his arm and smiled, then groaned as his sore muscles moved. Gently lowering his hand, he looked at her.

"Been doing a little solo act, vigilante style. Ran into a gang robbing some bank. There were more of them than I expected, all of them trigger happy too. Dropped my bow and they jumped me. But you should see the other guys." He grinned again and Sarah rolled her eyes. "I was in town and thought I'd stop by."

"You mean you almost got yourself killed again and were close enough not to bleed out on the way here."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "You got me."

She sighed. When would her brother ever learn? It was like the idiot was trying to get himself killed.

"I'm going to bed. Try to get some sleep." And with that she went back upstairs, leaving him to sleep on the couch.

* * *

The darn rooster wouldn't _shut up_. Sarah was forced out of bed at six in the morning.

She got dressed before going downstairs. Clint wasn't on the couch. She found him in the kitchen, chugging the milk out of the carton, stray cereal bits on the table. Grabbing the box of Captain Crunch, she went for her own bowl before realizing that the box was empty. She scowled. Little brothers.

Instead she grabbed a banana and sat across the table from Clint. He had finished the milk too, and was wiping his mouth. She glared at him, but he just smiled. She didn't reveal her shock at how much worse the bruises looked in the daylight.

"If you're going to come in and eat all of my food, the least you can do is a few chores."

He pretended to be upset. "But I'm in so much pain," he moaned, holding his stomach for dramatic effect.

"Mm-hmm, well then you can go collect some eggs. That's fairly effortless."

His eyes widened. "But your chickens are evil! I swear, they're out to kill me."

She laughed despite herself. "Just go."

He came back with three eggs, claiming the rest had spontaneously cracked and spilled. She didn't fail to notice the egg yolks dripping from the center of the hayloft doors on the barn.

After she made him lunch, he claimed it was time for him to leave. With a fresh shirt and his bow slung across his chest, he stood on the porch in front of Sarah. She hated that he was nearly a foot taller than she was.

"Be careful out there, ok?" She nodded to his bruises, which were already starting to fade.

He smirked. "Of course. Careful is my middle name."

She went to punch him, stopping a split second before her fist connected as she remembered his injuries. Instead she wrapped him in a hug, breathing in his scent as he hugged back. She had missed him.

He pulled away and stepped off the porch. "Thank you," he called over his shoulder as he started to walk away. She smiled and shook her head as she watched him leave.

Little brothers.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Let me know if you loved it, hated it, want to see more. If you have anyone you would like to see let me know, I am open to suggestions! Thank you for reading! :)


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